


The pull on my flesh was just too strong

by booleanWildcard



Series: Kakashi's tower of death and accidental orphanage [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Dragon Iruka, Found Family, Fuck Mizuki, Gen, I want kakashi's cats, Iruka attempts to be human, Iruka's a bit of a mess too, KakaIru Mini Bang 2020, Kakashi breaks the rules of being a hunter, Kakashi's a hot mess, M tag is for aggressiveness conveyed in character POV, M/M, Magic, Multiple Universes, Mythical Beings, Shapeshifters - Freeform, Urban Legends, absolutely none, and by not a lot i mean basically none, anko chews the scenery, anko uses them pronouns, because i said, but they do want each other, episodic and vignettes, especially biscuit, heavy au, hunter Kakashi, iruka spends more time in a human body than their dragon body, iruka uses they/them pronouns, kakashi's nindogs are cats in this fic, lil' bit of light dystopian world, nonbinary anko, nonbinary iruka, not a lot of canon here, or more specifically don't fuck mizuki, shared universe with friend, shifter anko, soulbond (implied), sundered world, they do not get together in this fic, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24628624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booleanWildcard/pseuds/booleanWildcard
Summary: "How long had that sleep been? Years, certainly, but they don't know how many. That, itself, should probably concern them— and yet it, like everything else, seems very remote, a faraway concern when compared to the sound of their claws clicking against the stone pathway out of their den, the raspy feel of the hard surface against their paws, the smell of rain in their flared nostrils."Shared universe!
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Series: Kakashi's tower of death and accidental orphanage [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780645
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34
Collections: KakaIru Mini Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiveAndLetRain (CaraLee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraLee/gifts).



> My entrant for the minibang! and a rare example of me sitting on a story for awhile prior to publication, which is not how i normally do things for weird psych reasons. But this story was in development for a long time, and was particularly protean; shifted forms a LOOOOT in the planning. In that planning, a good friend of mine, Rain, helped a lot and we bounced enough ideas that Rain really deserves as much credit for this world as i do. 
> 
> Shared universe- Rain and I will both be contributing stories to this universe, at our leisure. they are a co-author for the series (whose title will make more sense later in the series). For my perspective, what that means to me is that these stories are going to tend to be very episodic/vignette-y; they may break at cliffhangers or at unusual places. My intention is to keep each story grounded in a relatively narrow period of time, instead of including big skips like I'd ordinarily do. that way, we can both continue to contribute stories that happen at varying points in the timeline. I do not expect my contributions to this 'verse to happen in time-linear order-- so we may have flashbacks later on, or stories that occur farther in the future. 
> 
> Iruka in this fic is a dragon, but they can shapeshift. They are also nonbinary. They use either the pronouns they or he-- I am using they primarily because you do not often see fics that use 'they' as a pronoun, and since i am nonbinary, it would be a bit of a shame if I squandered this opportunity to write a fic that uses the same pronoun as I do. That said, I made that aesthetic decision after these first four chapters were written, so I've been changing that in the editing process-- please let me know if I missed any.  
> If Iruka's pronouns or nonbinariness bother you, I heartily encourage you not to read this fic. 
> 
> Should there need to be specific warnings on specific chapters, those will mentioned briefly up in this topnote, and specifics will be provided in the bottom note. Seriously triggering topics will also get flagged within the chapter and will have summaries provided in the bottomnote, so that readers who need to skip the chapter don't get too lost. 
> 
> My standard disclaimers-  
> 1) I write for my own edification, I'm not trying to cultivate a readership, I'm trying to fill some holes in my experience of representation in writing. If you do not like this fic, that is okay-- I encourage you to seek greener pastures elsewhere.  
> 2) I started writing because fanfic has been something I've needed at varying points in my life. It has kept me warm in cold places. I have written for a long time, but i started posting to pay homage in that regard. I am following in the footsteps of giants, and so i want to specifically think fan creators for pushing worlds further and making space for people like me, intentionally or not.  
> 3) I have massive social anxiety that revolves around receiving attention and being seen. On here, that manifests mostly as basically as a complicated anxiety about comments. I read them and I truly appreciate comments that are left; however, i can rarely bolster myself enough to respond to them, or to interface with AO3's comment system more broadly. So, I want to say thank you here, for just reading and also specifically to anyone who leaves a comment. (also, truly please do not feel like you need to leave a comment out of a sense of obligation-- please feel free to, if you _want_ to, but i certainly know the anxiety of leaving comments myself, so don't feel like you _need_ to, if that makes sense.)
> 
> Urban legend component: the thin barrier between the worlds on halloween, and the hunter x shifter thing.

Rain in Hidden Konoha has become a rare thing, since the sundering of the worlds.

All the mythics can feel it in the air, hours before it comes: the strange warm gray-yellow light of an approaching storm casting the world in cool shadows, the smell of dust and ozone announcing its presence like a heraldic retinue, drumming up anticipation for a returning king. The feeling is pervasive, penetrating even the depths of Iruka's underground den— it rouses them from their slumber, bleary and curious and vaguely hopeful, emerging slowly from strange dreams of densely packed humans and the familiar smell-feeling of _home,_ very unlike that of the actual home they wake back into. _Rain._ That was a sensation they didn't want to miss, and especially not with how rare it is now– they stretch languorously, getting slowly to their feet, allowing their body to work out the creaks and cracks that always come with standing after such a long slumber.

How long had that sleep been? Years, certainly, but they don't know how many. That, itself, should probably concern them— and yet it, like everything else, seems very remote, a faraway concern when compared to the sound of their claws clicking against the stone pathway out of their den, the raspy feel of the hard surface against their paws, the smell of rain in their flared nostrils.

And ah, here it is. They step out into the bright grey light of morning, pulling the interior lids shut tight over their eyes to filter out the sudden brightness. The light might summon a headache, but the rain feels good as it runs down their face and long neck and scales and wings, cool and pleasant and comfortable. In the distance, they can hear a low rumble of thunder, see a flash of lightning still many miles away—- not the element to which they have an affinity, but certainly its fast friend, in storms like the one that would soon break properly above Konoha.

They would not be the only being to draw comfort from this storm, either: the grounds in front of their den's threshold are bone-dry, the evergreens there more ever- _brown_ than anything else, needles on branches as dead and dry and reddish as the carpet of castoffs that always covers the raw soil. Iruka has no doubt that the entire forest is in the same condition– should they take flight, all they're likely to see is a ragged blanket of brown, standing in poor substitution for the normally dense deep green of the pine canopy that should hide the city of hidden leaves, as far as the eye can see.

This, too, is probably something that they should find more worrying than they currently do. This situation– this dryness– is not sustainable, because even mythics have to eat, and ground that can't support its forests probably can't nourish the crops required for basic subsistence. But this, too, seems very far away, and their mind is sluggish and tired and focused on the rain. Such nice, cool, comforting rain. It makes them _want_ for something whose absence they feel keenly, but don't understand. That something from the dream, probably. And possibly also tea, nice warm delicious tea. Iruka wonders if they still have tea in their den-- anything worth drinking, or if that has crumbled into a dust not dissimilar from that bone-dry soil that sucks down this first burst of raindrops hungrily, barely yet showing any evidence of dampness.

Probably not. It depends on how long they've been sleeping, but tea doesn't stay good forever-

"Oh good, you're awake."

Iruka twists their head around to look blearily at the speaker, eyes still third-lidded against the brightness of the storm-light. "It is very rude, Obito" they say, frowning deeply at the shedu who steps out from between the rust-colored trees, "to come into a dragon's territory without announcing yourself verbally. You should be glad I like you, otherwise I would eat you. And it would even be legal."

Obito raises the eyebrow above his single remaining eye. "I would advise against that." he answers, tone both amused and sarcastic, "Given that my mate is a larger dragon than you." His tone becomes more serious, lower, as he looks over Iruka's towering frame.

Iruka has always been small and light– though their species is more or less directly composed from raw magic (true of all mythics, to varying extents, but especially true of dragons), Iruka's is a breed more suited to wielding that source magic than to the brusque physicality more normally associated with the bigger and more well-known examples of their kind, and this incarnation of their body reflects that difference, their draconic frame relatively small and light. But even given that caveat, they are much thinner than they should've been, their body slipping dangerously into that state of hibernation where the sleep becomes permanent, where the riptide of the raw magic that flows around everything in the world becomes more compelling than the physical space into which it is intertwined. Since the Sundering, that riptide has only grown stronger; once, Konoha had been known for the size of its draconic population, whose den-mounds had formed a series of interlocking rings around the city-proper–- spaced to allow the dragons their need for personal territories, and forming a convenient line of defense and grandeur, with which to overwhelm Konoha's enemies.

Now those den-mounds are all barrows, their entrances sealed as their inhabitants sleep so deeply to be as close to death as it is possible for a dragon to come.

"I did announce myself." Obito says, somber. "And if you didn't hear me, I can only assume that's because you were sleeping." The implication hangs heavy in the air between them, unspoken but nevertheless so present that not even Iruka, in their current state, can quite ignore its seriousness– Obito had been half-worried that his visit here would end in yet another sealed den-turned-tomb, and that then there would only be one dragon left in Konoha. Iruka has no answer for it, either, cannot deny truth of it, even in their current fugue– can't deny it _because_ of their current fugue. When Obito leaves, Iruka probably _will_ sleep, and it probably will be permanent, and that all seems so inconsequential against the pull of the magic and the other thing– the other thing that was so far away and getting so much farther all the time– that they can't bring themself to care.

So Iruka says nothing, and the silence stretches between the two mythics, thick and uncomfortable. Iruka half-closes their eyes, raising their head higher towards the sky, letting the rain trace lines across their muzzle and the planes of their cheeks. They can feel the shedu's eye– famous for its magical perception– boring holes in their sides, scanning him, reading the eddies of magic that they carry in their body; they ignore that, too. Eventually, Obito will speak, or leave.

Speak, apparently. "Rin has a mission for you." Rin. The Hokage, their adopted sister, the only other dragon left waking. Iruka opens their eyes– both lids– lowering their head to bring themself even with Obito, regarding the other properly for the first time. They don't really feel up for a mission, but nevertheless, they are curious. "Do you know what today is?"

Iruka normally has a very good sense of time– it had been very useful in their administrative duties, back before–- how long was it now? But that sense of time seems to have evaporated, along with the regularity of the rain.

The rain.

"Whatever year it is," Iruka says, sounding uncomfortable with the obvious fact that they don't already know that answer, "It's close to all hallow's eve? If we're getting rain." The mix of having to think hard about what normally comes so naturally to them and their curiosity about this mission is starting to bring them more properly into the realm of wakefulness, starting to sharpen their mind slightly– and sharpen their awareness of that gap inside themself, the absence and unbalance of something vitally important. That, too, is a clue– but for a different thing, something more concerning. "I also assume that the worlds are getting further apart." Iruka begins to unconsciously bury his claws in the dirt, kneading the mixed soil and pine-needles beneath them in a reflection of their growing anxiety. "If it's been so long since we've had any."

And given how they feel now, how exhausted and empty and far from themself-- they are a being of magic, extremely susceptible to such changes. None of this means anything good. None of this is sustainable.

Obito hums a confirmation, moving forward on his five legs, beyond the edges of the tree-cover. "You're correct there. It's tonight." Obito's expression carries that same veneer of casualness that it so often does, but Iruka's known him for a _very_ long time, and can see the relief behind it– relief that Iruka isn't quite so far gone as he and Rin worried they might've been. It feels like a slight, even though it clearly isn't even meant to be visible.

Iruka snorts, patience perhaps slightly shorter than they like to maintain, and thus more easily offended than is probably reasonable. "I'm _fine."_ Iruka says, and immediately feels a little guilty for snapping, pulling their crest down against their head and neck and drawing into themself uncomfortably. "Tonight," they repeat, "That's a very short turnaround, if you mean to send me across the veil. I won't be able to get my hoard together." They're grumbling now, close to whining, and they know it, which doesn't make them feel any better, especially when Obito responds by laughing.

"Well, considering that you're gonna have to spend a lot of your time over there on two legs, that's probably for the best." Obito responds, and he's really and truly laughing, a cheerful expression that chases away the ghosts of worry from his expression and stance. Iruka resents it, but they can't deny that it's good to see that worry gone from the shedu who is basically his brother in law. "You're already going to be hunter bait without lugging all that fabric around." He shakes his head, raising his hands to mollify Iruka slightly. "And we don't _exactly_ have a place to send you, on the other side– Rin will fill you in," and once again he gets more serious, more uncomfortable, the worries banished from him only for moments– the situation must have grown much worse while Iruka was sleeping, "but the hunters have cleared out all of our safe-houses."

That _is_ bad news, bad enough that Iruka is willing to ignore their slightly bruised ego, and nods. "I'll- I'll get ready then." they say, concerned and uncertain. "Of course." They hesitate, looking at Obito as if they're the one with magically perceptive eyes, as if Iruka might pull the details of the situation out of the man by means other than words. "What aren't you telling me?" They ask, deciding that bluntness is probably the best policy here. "Why are you sending _me?"_ They pause, tilting their head, crest half-rising in discomfort at the idea. "Not that I question Rin's judgment or don't want to go, but– I'm far from the strongest mythic on this side, especially–" they swallow, because they have to admit this verbally now, and they don't want to recognize the truth of its seriousness, "especially if I've been asleep for so long. I don't know if I _can–"_

Obito raises his hand, both to soothe them and to cut them off. "You're better suited to this than you know, Iruka." he says, soft and serious. "I promise. We chose you for a reason, and not because you're family, not only because we trust you." Iruka looks at him seriously, a long glance over the top of their long muzzle, and Obito gives them a half smile. "Rin will fill you in. We'll meet you by the tear at moonrise." Obito hesitates, and then adds: "Don't be late. It doesn't stay open very long, these days." He waits for Iruka to make a noise of confirmation, before turning to leave, presumably having preparations of his own to attend to. He only stops briefly at the edge of the tree line, looking over his shoulder at the dragon behind him. His voice and expression imply that his words are a tease, but there'e something very serious underneath them, and they're both aware of it: "And don't go back to sleep."

Don't go back to sleep, because if Iruka does, they won't wake up again.

Iruka resents both the statement and the truth of it, and it makes them seriously question this entire plan that their family has apparently hatched, makes them wonder if the two leaders of Hidden Konoha _really_ thought about what it means to be sending them so far away across the veil. If Iruka's having so much trouble here, how are they going to manage the hive, where all the humans live, so far from the source that powers all the mythics on the hidden side? But Obito and Rin aren't stupid– far from it– and Iruka trusts their family, trusts that the pair've thought of that, that there's something– _something_ – in whatever the two have been scheming to address it, and that they'll be filled in at the meeting tonight.

In the meantime, they'll have to see if there's anything among his hoard that they _can_ justify taking-- much as the idea pains them, Obito's right, and the benefits to their magic would be negligible against the cost of dragging the entire collection around, if they're to be left to their own resources in that alien human country.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna post one of these a day--- but now i think i'll just post as i edit. C:

On the eve of Halloween, Kakashi wakes late in the day, and less because of any schedule than that he can already feel the shifts in the magical atmosphere characteristic of the holiday.

Most of the world has forgotten _why_ Halloween is a holiday, but as a Hunter, he does not have that luxury-- as a Hunter, he is _why_ most people have the luxury consider it fun and carefree, an appropriate occasion for masked parties and raucous street festivals. The humans celebrate in banal ways, as mostly harmless as they themselves tend to be, but the _mythics--_ Halloween is one of those points in the year where magic flows the strongest, that first spot that marks a season characterized by winter's coming chill and huge upticks in the general ambient magic of the world, magic that is _rising_ , despite all the Hunters' efforts. Other humans can celebrate, cheerful and unconcerned, but on Halloween, Kakashi gets to work.

And something about this Halloween is _different._ He can feel it, but he doesn't know the why, not yet. Something has changed, something Very Significant, but it is also far away-- probably still over the veil, but not for much longer. The hidden city must be planning something, he thinks; it is his first coherent thought of the day, as he sits up in bed, blinking at the dingy late-afternoon light streaming relentlessly through the grimy windows of his bedroom.

Tonight's going to be a fucking pain in the ass.

He gets up slowly, lets himself take his time. It's sunny out, and the light streaming through his windows is warm on his skin and the perpetual soreness of his overworked muscles; this kind of rain-free weather is rare enough-- and tonight likely to be frustrating enough-- to justify a slow 'morning'.

⋖⋇⋗

By the time Kakashi gets himself downstairs, the sun has begun to set, and he can feel that vibration in the air that accompanies the thinning of the veil. The tear will be active tonight, likely to result in many more mythics reaching the real world-- this side of the sundered worlds, where all the humans are, what the mythics refer to derisively as 'the hive'-- most of them to stay. Kakashi has never known whether the mythics are actually aware of how hard it is to cross back-- perhaps they come here to feed on all the weak humans, and then realize retroactively that their portal is the kind of door that can only be crossed once a year-- but as soon as they make it over, they are his problem, and they typically _stay_ his problem.

But it's not that dynamic that's different about this halloween-- _something_ is, and he keeps trying to put his finger on what, that little wriggling awareness in the back of his mind, trying to figure out what to expect. It's not necessarily how powerful the vibrations of magic between the worlds are, either, as they temporarily come back into alignment-- that's the kind of difference he'd expect to feel this keenly, and it definitely isn't that. Rather, the sensation is more on the order of familiarity, not pure power, and Kakashi doesn't even know where to begin with that line of thought.

Is something he's already killed before a little less dead than he thought? It wouldn't be the first time.

Perhaps the cats will know.

As usual, some of them are lounging around in the small, cramped kitchen at the base of the tower; those that aren't already there are soon summoned by his presence, as he starts the process of brewing his pre-hunt coffee. He is a fan of cream, and so are they. Pakkun, of course, is first: the exotic shorthair jumps up on the counter and sits, regally, beside the coffee maker, tail curled around his feet as he looks at Kakashi with very pointed expectation on his flat face. There are protocols to observe.

Kakashi sighs, wanders to his fridge, sets out the cream, pours a bowl. As he slides it in front of Pakkun-- who stands, stretches, pretends he wasn't making it very clear that _this_ is exactly what he was waiting for-- Kakashi asks, "So. Something's coming over the Veil-- something unusual. Any information on what I can anticipate tonight?"

The cat blinks at him, only deigning to answer after he's already lapped up some of the cream; Kakashi is patient, as he waits for the answer, pouring more cream into his empty coffee mug while he for the actual drink to finish brewing. "Nothing specific." Pakkun says, gravel-voice sounding wry and amused, like he actually does know something and has no intention of telling Kakashi what it is. It makes Kakashi narrow his eyes, wonder why he lets a bunch of obviously-magical talking cats hang around his tower. By rights of his job, he really should've killed them all when they started to let themselves in.. but, well. He does _like_ cats. And they're mostly harmless, in the grand scheme of things.

It's different, when mythics can't pretend to be people, hidden in plain sight so as to better hunt the unwary and unprotected ordinary humans that inhabit this side of the world.

The other cats start appearing, one by one. Bull, the maine coon, previously asleep under the couch, emerges and jumps onto the table. He's second in command, Kakashi thinks-- as much as the cats can be said to have a hierarchy at all-- and he won't rush Pakkun, for all that the exotic shorthair is a fraction of his size. Kakashi offers them all long strokes of greeting, comforted by the cats' collective presence, whether or not that presence is lightly heretical. "It's like a smell." Kakashi comments, mind still on the unusual difference between tonight and previous halloweens. "but only half of one. Never felt anything like it-- it's very annoying."

This surprises none of the cats-- Kakashi doesn't think he's actually seen any of them them be surprised by anything, not in all the time he's known them-- but Pakkun gives him an expression that's slightly more self-satisfied than usual. Bull looks happy and placid, as he always does; he's the one who speaks: "Don't worry, Boss." the larger cat tells him, "I'm sure the smell'll get stronger when the tear actually opens."

"That goes without saying, Bull." Pakkun says, voice somewhere between droll and warning; they _definitely_ know something's going on, and they're _definitely_ hiding some information from him. Kakashi narrows his eyes still further, but the cats are not impressed by his posturing. "Amazing you can see at all, closing your eye like that, Boss." Pakkun drawls, "If you're not careful you'll only have that one Lord General Danzo gave you, and then where will you be."

The cat's attempt to distract him works; Kakashi heaves a sigh, pouring his coffee into his mug and then turning his back to the counter entirely, so that neither cat can see him. The others are milling around his feet, but they haven't been as uncooperative as their leaders-- and if that's only becuase they haven't spoken to him yet today, Kakashi is willing to take it. Especially Biscuit, the kitten of the group-- the little cream-tabby jumps onto his armor-padded pants, burying his claws deep into the fabric and climbing Kakashi like he's a tree, eager to settle into the crook of Kakashi's arm and purr up a storm, as is their 'morning' tradition. "Biscuit, you wouldn't be such an ass to me, would you." Kakashi says, returning the kitten's slightly-drooly nuzzled affections. "Not like your pack leader."

"We don't have packs! Or leaders!" Biscuit answers, as if this is trivia and he's very very excited to have the right answer, "Pakkun said so."

"Of course you don't," Kakashi responds, sarcastic, side-eyeing the head-cat beside him. Pakkun has moved away from the dish of cream, affecting casual disinterest; the other cats now hop onto the counter to have their turn, working out their minor political disputes through some proxy hissing over who gets to drink in what order. "There's plenty for all of you." Kakashi adds, though he knows the perceived scarcity of delicious cream is _not_ what's actually at question in their posturing-- perhaps they don't have leaders, but they certainly do have _alliances,_ and perpetually shifting ones, possibly even more tenuous than those of Lord Danzo's court.

Kakashi _really_ doesn't want to think about the politics of Lord General Danzo's court, even for a moment. It's one of the few things that makes him slightly grateful that his title, "Hokage", is largely an ornamental relic of a long-bygone era. He is functionally the state's Hunter prime, the-would-be leader of the entire working population-- would be, but for the fact that Hunters operate independently as a rule, and are deeply jealous of their own practices. They might work together if they have to, but most of the collaboration between Hunters is logistical-- something about the kind of person attracted to such a gruesome lifestyle just makes that the best way of operating, and Kakashi is no exception to that rule. But for all that his cats think him some level of pityingly stupid, he does know his business, has read the many moldering logbooks that live in the tower's equally-moldering basement, written meticulously by the generations of Hokages before him, including his own father. Hokages, once, were glorious figures, leaders who were tasked with keeping their people safe, always first to the battlefield and at the head of the charge, relentless in pursuit of enemies that Kakashi assumes are the same predatory mythics that he currently hunts. Those enemies, though, are devious, and he knows this first hand-- fighting them takes a lot of time and energy, and so the duties of the Lord General and the Hokage began to switch places, over time, the Lord General assuming more of the less glorious administrative duties, and more of the very real power that came with them. The Lord General, as a rule, is never named in those logs-- a precaution somewhere between security and tradition-- but regardless of the wisdom of whichever of his and Danzo's ancestors initiated that particular power transition, Kakashi is not mourning the loss of administrative bullshit and requisite political posturing, even if it does mean that everything associated with his own position is as ramshackle and run-down and titular as the actual ceremonial title is.

The thoughts give him a headache-- or more specifically an eye-ache. Or perhaps that's just the nature of this specific night, becuase this _thing_ \-- this _eye_ \-- that Lord Danzo has given him (the kind of gift that you _really_ can't say no to and still keep your head, possibly literally, and possibly even after it's given) reacts painfully to any magic in the air, and there's no lack of that now.

When the tear actually opens, it does so with no subtlety whatsoever; magic is soundless, but the uncomfortably loud crunch-screech of metal being torn apart by more metal at high speeds is nevertheless the best description of how the opening feels, and moreso now because his stolen eye also reacts as if someone is stabbing him in the brain. _How_ Danzo ever expected this thing to be _helpful_ to him is frankly beyond Kakashi's ken. He must momentarily brace himself; given the choice between dropping a cat or the coffee, he chooses to put down the coffee, ignoring the way it splashes over the cup's rim as he slides it out of the way, bracing himself against his dented counters. It's the right decision, becuase Biscuit leans into his chest, purring up a storm in that too-loud way that means he's trying to soothe Kakashi. It doesn't really help, but it is very sweet.

"That's your cue, boss." Pakkun says, through a stretch, supremely unconcerned with the way the two worlds magically come together and violently rip apart their boundaries once a year, and _completely_ without sympathy to Kakashi's current plight-- Pakkun hates the eye, all the cats do, and they rarely make an attempt to hide their opinions. "Good luck."

"Is it better now?" Bull wants to know, trotting up to Kakashi's side, fluffy tail wagging back and forth in almost doglike curiosity.

"Is what better now?" Kakashi asks, gritting his teeth as the sensation of the tearing subsides, carrying with it a sharp edge for his eye-induced headache. More sensations are flooding him, too, vying with the too-much-information the still-covered eye is already starting to send directly into his brain, a firehose of stimuli he was never made to process; he can barely make sense of it all.

He _really_ hates Halloween.

"The smell? Is it clearer now?" Bull sounds hopeful, as if the answer will confirm a theory, or perhaps win him a bet against the other cats.

"Why-" Kakashi begins, and then, quite suddenly, _it very much is._ He has no idea whether Bull's asking brought that particular stimuli forward in his awareness, against the firehose of _everything else--_ that seems more likely to it being a complete coincidence-- but suddenly its clarity is breathtaking, nearly serene. It's a very pleasant smell, one he can't describe but that makes him hungry for things other than food; it is the only appropriate focus for his attention. Even the pain and overstimulation from the eye cannot compete with it, and the other inputs all become a dull buzz in the back of his head, so much easier to ignore.

It makes him want to Hunt things.

There is a reason why Kakashi is a hunter, why he didn't refuse his father's position, which technically would've been his right. Kakashi enjoys it-- he's good at it, it's what he's suited to, and not just because he doesn't like to bother with politics or think too deeply about the ethical implications of anything with which he is involved, either directly or by association. The world is cruel, brutal, complicated, and heartless-- hunting, on the other hand, is simple. Danzo always says that Justice is simple; Kakashi's not sure that he actually believes that, but he knows for certain that the chase definitely is. Simple, and thrilling, and it makes him feel alive. It usually _does_ have a smell component for him (a fact that makes the cats wrinkle their noses in distaste and call him a _dog),_ but rarely this strong, and rarely this compelling. He needs this smell, he can't help but chase the origin of it. He will follow it to the ends of the earth and beyond, wants to capture it and sink his teeth into it, wants to--

He pulls himself from this thinking, because it's too easy to get distracted, and the hunt requires focus.

Gently, Kakashi puts Biscuit down, stroking his kitten-soft head, ignoring his little mewl of protest at losing his most favorite place to sit. "Much clearer now, Bull. Much." Kakashi's tone is happy, satisfied, a little excited: He anticipates a glorious hunt, a fabulous takedown, and perhaps even a trophy-- an idea he finds much less distasteful than the heads that Danzo occasionally demands as proof of his kills. Already dressed for the hunt, Kakashi moves to the kit at the door, checking the edge of various weapons and attaching them to the appropriate places on his belt. "Be good, kids, don't burn down the tower while I'm away~"

"We won't!" Biscuit happily responds, as he does every time Kakashi leaves for a hunt, as thrilled with their exchange this hundredth time as he was the first time. Kakashi grins at the lot of them, and then he's out the door, into too-crowded streets that are unusually rain-free, letting the chase take over his focus completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I can be found on pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/00101010). there is a link there to a google form, if you would like to send me prompts. Otherwise, i maintain no other socials.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> \- 42 / * / BooleanWildcard / 00101010 / asterisk


	3. Chapter 3

Iruka barely remembers when the dragon colony of Konoha was near the height of its glory.

Technically, they were born well before the decline-- when the world was still whole, when there was only a single Konoha, when the "hidden" in its name referred to the united city's hard-to-find location amidst thick pines, and humans and mythics occupied adjacent spaces without killing one another. Unfortunately, they'd spent that time in their mother's den, barely fresh from the egg and far too young to explore or form proper memories: their knowledge of that time is mostly from stories, told to them by Rin and Obito. And oh, but they are beautiful, glorious stories; they make Iruka ache for memories they wish they'd managed to form. Rin's stories particularly are full of glory, with excellent heroes from Konoha's proud history-- Minato, the hokage before her, the proud and regal dragon whose den was the top of a grand tower at the center of the city; Kushina, his beautiful wife, the tenacious kitsune whose cleverness had been the solution to a great many problems; Naruto, the half-dragon son it had been so hard for them to conceive and whose egg they had cherished for so long. This family had been Rin and Obito's teachers, Rin having shown early promise for Hokage-- a succession that had relatively little to do with blood and everything to do with tethering and temperament-- and so that made them as close as family. There were so many wonderful stories, both of the small sweet domestic kind, and the kind full of glorious battles against long odds, as the group of them valorously defended Konoha against those who wished it harm.

Even small dragons need fairy stories, and Iruka had been no exception, and all the better if their glorious heroes were historical figures that Rin had actually known-- even if they suspect the stories had been altered such to fit the fairytale dynamic more appropriately, whether they were about stealing treats from tower kitchens and getting caught, or defending the city against a legion of terrifying snake-constructs come to steal away all the innocent children.

Iruka feels like they probably _should_ remember the Sundering, and their parents-- they _were_ technically old enough to have memories from then-- but all they remember is pain and fire, as two worlds made to exist as a symbiotic magical whole were torn apart by Minato's terrible sacrifice. Rin has told them this story too, though much less frequently, and in much more pained and abbreviated tones. Iruka's never quite been clear on the how or the who, for example, of most of the events-- just that some kind of attack happened, and that Rin and Obito had both been there, at the heart of things. Kushina had died, and their son too-- or 'as good as died', whatever that meant-- and whatever form the deaths had taken had been so deeply egregious to the way that magic was supposed to work that their loss created wound in the world so terrible that it looked completely impossible to repair. Iruka, for all their whining, had never been able to convince Rin to explain this completely-- perhaps it was impossible to do so-- they had the impression that it was some kind of hole composed of nothingness, an aweful ravenous emptiness that spread itself like a slow poison, oozing and inevitable. Rin's voice would go solemn and hushed and low, at this point in the story, mournful and proud simultaneously-- because Minato was clever, had been the most clever of any of them, and had managed to repair the damage, rushed and inelegant as the solution had been.

Magic is not entirely dissimilar to the physics through which it flows: one rule is that you can't actually _destroy_ anything, only move or misplace it, and possibly break it so far into its component parts that the resulting energy is explosive beyond comparison. Pressed for time and desperate, Minato made a gamble on that specific principle: with help from all the mythics, such as they could offer, and every dragon whose den so proudly ringed the inner city, he-- a dragon, a being of magic-- took himself apart and sundered the worlds, cauterizing the magical wound and halting its progress. The sundering was still disastrous, but less-so-- and it worked, despite having been entirely theoretical only moments before. But the cost was grievous: dragons do not properly _die_ , they sleep, even if the deepest of those sleeps are permanent; Minato was _destroyed_ , lost to a true death beyond even that deepest sleep. And he was not the only casualty: many mythics and humans died too, some in the sundering and some before, some through the sacrifice of magic they gave in an effort to aid Minato. Many dragons entered the permanent sleep that day, including Iruka's own parents.

Rin and Obito had found them in the wreckage, a wailing dragonet at the entrance of their den, unable to wake parents they were still too young to survive without; Rin and Obito, barely any older than Iruka themself, had taken them in.

Those losses had been the first of several that occurred in waves, because Minato's solution was never meant to be permanent-- it was meant to be a stopgap, with the expectation that the beings on both sides would strive to see tear repaired-- an expectation that proved somewhat optimistic. No help came across the veil, no aid to the mythics' side, where so many had been lost to prevent further destruction. Instead, the sundering had become an indefinite condition-- a continuation that carried the two worlds farther and farther apart, straining and paradoxically strengthening the separation induced by the veil. The tethers that prevented so many dragons from losing themselves into the eddies of pure magic and the permanent sleep had begun to fail, and one by one, their decimated dragon population had fallen still further-- a drop echoed amongst the wider mythic population, too.

Now, upon recently waking from their own too-long hibernation, Iruka is dismayed to discover that the old estates at the edges of the city are abandoned ruins-- they would've been overgrown but for the parched soil, for which the current rain is doing very little-- and that the actual city population has shrunk to a few narrow streets and densely-crowded buildings. The hidden world would cannot survive this separation for much longer, whether or not the humans remember them or care.

It is the first thing that emphasizes the dire importance of this mission that Rin is sending them on.

Rin herself is the other thing. As night falls and the moon presumably begins to rise-- hard to see, behind the clouds still generating the desperately needed rain-- Iruka makes their way to the center of the city, to the tower that Rin still calls her den. It is a huge wooden construction, one that has clearly seen better days, but one that remains lovingly maintained despite the inexorable progress of inevitable disrepair, a small metaphor for the entire city. Rin waits for him there, beside the external symbol of the thing that is _her own_ tether-- not Obito, her mate, but Konoha itself, as is required of the Hokage-- and though she still towers over him, so much huger than Iruka's kind of dragon could ever grow to be, she is _so much thinner_ now, and she looks so unbelievably tired. It is badly jarring, because Rin has been his older sister, fearless and brave and powerful, _and_ Konoha's Hokage in the face of the worst crisis it had ever seen-- nothing is supposed to reach her, nothing can harm her, she must stand tall and bear the entire city on her wings.

And she still does so, even at such an extreme cost-- because it _is_ her tether, which means she is tied to it and its fate, symbiotically feeding it her magic, and it is supposed to do the same. It is very clear what direction that relationship is currently going-- and that she hasn't slept in a _very_ long time, even just for moments-- because in this state, her sleep would also probably be a permanent one, and then the city would never recover.

It makes Iruka feel suddenly very silly, to have been so upset that they couldn't bring some of their favorite bolts of fabric or their favorite looms with them on this mission, and to have slept so long, and to have griped so much when Obito had woken them properly. The absence of their hoard on their forthcoming mission is, in the grand scheme of things, an extremely minor thing-- they can accumulate a new one on the other side without much trouble, but Rin cannot so easily solve her own sacrifices, so much greater than Iruka's. They feel deeply shamed, and so they put their crest down as they move to stand in front of her and Obito, head curled back in a U to press their chin back down against their neck. "Hokage," they greet solemnly, both becuase it is important to address her by the title that she is very clearly _earning,_ and because formality is a good thing to hide their shame behind. "I am ready for my mission."

"Hokage?" Rin repeats, amused and gregarious despite the tiredness in her voice. She moves forward, clapping the back of their folded wings with her own larger one, twining her neck around theirs briefly. "Is that any way to greet your sister?" Because of course she still very much is their sister-- always has been, this entire time, and she won't begin to stand on ceremony now. "I'm so glad to see you awake, Iruka." she says, softly, more serious. "And to hear that you're willing to do this. There's nobody else." A statement which means two things, as Iruka is very much aware: there is nobody else they could trust, and possibly that there is nobody else _at all._ "Now c'mon, shift down, I have a lot I need to catch you up on and not a lot of time, and unfortunately, I'm afraid you'll find that humans are no longer happy to see us with the right number of legs. Some of this mission is going to involve hiding on only two of them."

Iruka hums unhappily, and asks their limbs to rearrange themselves, as the small group walks inside the tower proper-- occupying a human body isn't something Iruka's ever found to be the most pleasant of experiences, and this short briefing is going to be precious little time to get used to such a body, before actually crossing over.

<*>

Iruka has slept through most previous All Hallow's Eves, and they are glad for that when they, Rin, and Obito are interrupted mid-briefing by the tearing of the veil. It is always a physically painful sensation for a dragon, like their skin is being torn apart-- so close to the heart of Konoha, it feels like someone is peeling away all of Iruka's scales individually, tearing each from their flesh such to be as painful as possible-- the scales their human body currently lacks. They want to put their crest down again, curl their head down against their neck, cover themself with their wings in protection-- but they can do none of these things, lacking the requisite parts, can only raise a feeble sticklike-arm to cover their face, as if the tearing of the worlds is just too much sun in their eyes. Even their ability to react to pain seems inadequate, in this body.

Rin and Obito, whose exposure to this is more regular and more pronounced, barely react-- the lids around Rin's eyes grow tighter and more creased, and Obito clenches his jaw. "Guess we're out of time." he says to his mate, who only nods seriously. Rin-- also in her human shape-- stands, Iruka shortly behind, and they all trot a few flights up the stairs to the tower's roof and the door there. It _looks_ the same-- an ordinary door, a little banged up around the edges, familiar old scuffed dry wood-- but it certainly doesn't _feel_ the same, feels _too much_ generally, like it should be a dizzying swirling mass of visual confusion.

Rin hugs Iruka close, patting their shoulder. "Be careful. Good luck."

Obito is slightly more brusque, hiding some of his own worry behind the focus of a mission, and that much more awkward becuase he's not usually the taller one; he claps Iruka on the shoulder firmly, nodding to them. "Ditto. Remember what we told you. And be careful of the man in charge over there-- their Hokage-- he's tricky, stole my eye." he shakes his head. "And if you need to get in touch, find the Inuzuka. It's a lot harder to get back-- the way is hard to find." A gentle, if roundabout, reminder that should things go terribly wrong, Iruka is probably on their own-- it would take Rin & Obito far longer to recall them back to this world than would make for an appropriate rescue.

Iruka nods, clinging to them to return their hugs, remembering the look of them and the feel of their bodies-- Rin's human-shape nearly as upsettingly thin as her dragon one, Obito just a little uncomfortably too tall compared to how Iruka normally knows him-- and hoping desperately it won't the last time they would see the pair. And then they are moving away, through the door before they can have second thoughts-- it resists opening slightly, and then abruptly falls away into a tunnel, half yawning mouth and half endless chasm, impossibly deep and full of nameless fear. Iruka instinctively balks, but though their feet try to move them backwards, the portal itself will not let them move away-- it pulls them in, a mass of sensations as disorienting as its visual appearance, the only clear experience of which is _falling._

Arriving in the hive is only marginally less pleasant.

Iruka lands on their back, on ground rain-damp despite the clarity of the dark sky above them, and though technically the verb most applicable to their sudden world-transition is "materializes", it still feels like they actually _did_ fall, and then hit the ground with a sudden stop. They are winded, gasping for air, panicked and breathless and that much smaller for their sudden extreme awareness of their changed body. Dragons do not _land_ on their backs, this is vulnerable, their wings, did they land on their wings, if they did than their wings are probably broken, they can't feel their wings--

It takes them several long seconds to remember that the fact that the reason they can't feel their wings is probably becuase they don't have any wings right now to feel, and what reminds them is the soft brownness of the skin on the hands that flail above them, not the bright teal-blueness of the paws that they think ought to be there instead. Right, yes, they're in human shape, and that's on purpose, everything is okay.

or, well. Sort of okay.

Dazed and winded, they let themself lay on the unfamiliar hard ground-- their fingers run across it, noting the unfamiliar texture, bumpy and paved instead of raw soil, grounding themself in strangeness. They catalogue the sensations in their body, forcing their lungs to fill more slowly, forcing themself to focus both on the parts that hurt and the things that feel unusual. Nothing seems catastrophically injured, nothing seems broken-- bruised, perhaps, or a little sore. The world _smells_ strange-- the biggest scent is that of _human,_ barely something Iruka recognizes but from the farthest of memories, and much stronger than it ever was before. There are _lots_ of humans here, everywhere, all around them. It feels like it should be overwhelming-- like all the strangeness and the new sensations should be _too much_ and terrifying and insurmountable-- but they aren't, and that's confusing, too. If anything, it's the opposite-- despite feeling as winded as they do, that's just from the landing and from remembering they don't have wings to break-- Iruka otherwise feels more alive than they have in literally centuries, more awake and vital and curious and interested than ever before. They open their eyes again (only one lid on these human eyes, how odd); it's night, but the world around them is bright, buzzing with both captive magic and electricity, neon lights growing organically up the sides of tall buildings, tracing the shape of unfamiliar words and figures in chaotic glowing colors. They are in a gap between buildings, barely wide enough to fit their body; humans are all around them, passing by without even looking in their direction. They wonder what they look like to those strangers-- if the shape of another human, half-consious on their back, is so common around here as to be beneath notice. Iruka tilts their head backward, ignoring how their (soft!) hair grinds against the gritty texture of the pavement beneath them, looking at the world upside down, content to observe people by the passage of their feet and ankles, while they get their bearings.

"So." says voice deeper down the little pathway in which they are laying, speculative in tone. "Are you gonna just keep laying there or do you have a plan?"

Iruka blinks, and then sits up, squinting to peer deeper into the darkness. There are no neon lights between these buildings, and they desperately wish for their proper eyes right now, the ones that can see in the dark. How do humans do anything? "Plan?" they repeat, suddenly suspicious, hunching forward. Their immediate impulse is to lunge forward, snake-fast, with their jaws, rout the voice out from wherever it's hiding--- but this body also lacks the natural weapons with which their other one was graced, they realize belatedly. Any strikes they could make would be clumsy and short. They'll have to figure out some alternate method of attack; their magic is still available to them, they feel distantly, but it's going to take a little while to learn how to channel it through the shape of these new limbs. It has just occurred to them that they might not have that time-- that this is a dangerous and cruel world, as Rin and Obito just carefully impressed upon them in that debriefing, and that it may not be willing to give them a grace period in which figure out its rules. They may not have the luxury of being as sluggish as they have been, since waking.

The source of the voice routs itself out, though, whether or not they snap at it; the figure doesn't step completely into the light, given that it wears a mythic shape-- bipedal, but more animal than not; a shifter, this one a hyena-- presumably not keen for the humans to see them, but enough that Iruka can see their silhouette in the bounce-light of the surrounding neon. "I'm just saying," the figure goes on conversationally, "That you made a bit of an entrance. There hasn't been a dragon come through that tear in--" they pause, scratching their chin and looking at Iruka's still-prone form speculatively. "Ever, I think. You'll have caught the attention of every Hunter in the city, coming through like that."

This shifter is scrawny, rangy-- they wear human clothes, a tan jacket and netted shirt, the gaps of which makes a pillowed texture of the scruffy fur that pokes through. The hair on their head-- longer than everywhere else, almost like human hair, but wirey-- is pulled back in an upturned bun, fanned out behind the muzzled head. Iruka rankles-- the dragon doesn't know this stranger, whose entire presence seems ragged and unkempt, and they don't appreciate the sensation of being told off. At the same time, though, they recognizes that an ego response may not be the most useful one-- that this is dangerous, and they aren't sure why, if the danger is becuase of the stranger or because of the hunters that the stranger has mentioned. Obito had mentioned them too, but had skipped over the definition, apparently presuming that Iruka already knew what they were. That, Iruka realizes now, was a mistake. "Hunters..?" the dragon says slowly, gathering tension in muscles that are still shaky from the recent transition between worlds, not sure if they mean to jump towards the stranger in an attack or just surge upward to run away. "None of these humans seem too concerned with me- I don't think any of them have noticed me at all."

The stranger smiles at him, delighted by a secret joke that only they understand. "Oh, but the pair of you." they say to Iruka, humming with amusement, "you are _made_ for each other, this is _perfect."_ They laugh, and then shake their head. "okay, look, I'll be nice to you. Here's some lessons really quick, since you're new here. First: hunters don't like us, and they're good at what they do, which is _hunt_ _us._ All mythics. So best avoid them, and if you can't, pretend to be human." they pause, raising an eyebrow, " _Convincingly._ Second: they steal our powers when they kill us, and you-- well, you might be useful to them dead or alive. So I would advise the first option- avoid them. Third: I'm Anko, pronouns they/them, hi how are you, very nice to meet you. If you survive tonight, I'll help you out. Also bye, because you _really_ need to be on your way." They're stepping forward, holding a hand out; Iruka takes it automatically, allowing themself to be pulled to their feet. "I'll do you a favor, cause a diversion. Go lose yourself among the humans. Remember: _convincingly!"_ Their hands are on Iruka's shoulders, turning the dragon around, shoving them into the main road and a throng of humans that curse at them for suddenly blocking the path. Disoriented by the sudden brightness of the neon, Iruka turns around, catches a glimpse of Anko blowing them a kiss and making a shooing motion, before turning to disappear back into the darkness of the alley in which they'd landed.

This new Konoha suddenly seems a lot smaller and more claustrophobic than it had moments before. Iruka gulps, and gets to the business of learning how to flee on only two legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything's better with some scenery chewing~
> 
> I can be found on [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/00101010). There is also a public link on that PF to a form where people can send me prompts. i have no twitter or tumblr or instagram, nor any intention to maintain a presence on those services.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> \- 42 / * / asterisk / BooleanWildcard / 00101010 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Aggressive sexual impulses, and some violence. Specific warnings in the endnote, in case anyone wants more information before preceding.
> 
> EDIT: now submitted with RTF instead of wiki markup for hte formatting oops.

Hunters are territorial people, and Kakashi is no exception-- he's probably supposed to be, what with being the Hokage, the 'fire shadow' and head of their 'organization', but he's not, and everyone knows it.

He counts on that knowledge to keep his own hunting grounds clear-- the area immediately around his tower and the city center, which are considered the richest, and which earn him no small degree of jealousy and ill-will from his peers. They are not a people much given working together or respecting each other's boundaries-- they vie as viciously amongst each other as they imagine those they hunt to do, letting that idealization justify their cruelty and disrespect, both of each other and their targets. The intensity of inter-hunter conflicts make Kakashi sick, grateful that there's not often much pull to bring them all together or encourage them to be an organization in more than just name-- he doesn't _like_ hunters, and he's grateful that he doesn't have to deal with them very often. He suspects it's a common sentiment.

He doesn't like himself much, either, though, so at least he's chosen the right line of work.

But today will carry a greater temptation to disrespect the niceties of territorial boundaries, one that his ceremonial title might not be strong enough to quash entirely. Kakashi might have to _remind_ people that it's more than his title that keeps him in this position, keeps his territory clear. Because he can smell it as well as anyone else, strong and alluring on the wind: something has _come through_ the veil, of course, and this something is _strong._ He could feel it coming, and the second it makes landfall he knows exactly where it is, can smell it on the wind, _wants_ it terribly with a hunger he didn't even know he was capable of, this strange thing that smells of sandalwood and old luxurious fabric and rain and pine-needles. That thing is _his_ , it is _for him,_ and the hunters he can feel circling on the edges of his territory are trying to steal it from him, steal this thing that is here _for him._

And that is unacceptable.

The thing-- wherever it is, it's lost and confused, easy pickings; that information is carried on the wind, not quite a scent, but enough like one that he doesn't question the knowledge.

Most of the other hunters gathering on the edges of his territory are like vultures or crows-- hungry and as eager to feast as he is, but waiting as if around a corpse, making sure it's actually dead and unguarded before they approach. Some of them are moving, but _away_ from his territory, crashing after something that's making enough of a magical ruckus that ordinarily he'd be after it too, were it not overshadowed by the thing that smells so good. And Kakashi's territory is certainly not unguarded; his very presence-- unhidden and unshielded, moving quickly from the tower with relentless determination-- is enough to disperse the rest like the carrion birds they resemble, back to their own spaces, to hunt whatever smaller game was so unlucky as to cross between the worlds tonight, or else join the chase after that secondary fascination. Only one lingers, brazen and familiar: Mizuki, that young upstart, encroaching onto what's _his_. Kakashi recognizes the younger man's energy from nearly a mile away, notices how deliberately it ignores him as it hones in on the source of that alluring smell that will not leave his nose.

It makes him unbelievably angry.

Kakashi tosses himself in the same direction, nearly a mythic himself with the fervor with which he engages in the chase. Mizuki has the advantage of time on him; the younger is closer to their joint target, who is very near to the city's populated center, full of civilians who have no idea what's going on or what kind of danger they're in. That makes him uncomfortable too-- Mizuki's record with civilians isn't great, which is part of why Kakashi's been so careful to make sure the young hunter's 'grounds are on the outskirts of town, where the population density is ragged and sporadic. He has a tendency to unleash abilities with wide effects, and damn the consequences if a non-hunter should see or experience something outside their ability to contextualize, or should get injured or killed. It's a double-insult for Mizuki to be here, one Kakashi has no interest in tolerating.

But this is his territory, and he knows the pathways and tricks that Mizuki doesn't. Kakashi cultivates a series of passageways above the crowded city streets: empty apartments, abandoned balconies, impromptu bridges or rope ladders and swings between tall buildings, all to give him a way to navigate the city without having to push through the crowds present below at all times of day or night. He is not the only one to use these passageways, he knows, but their presence is enough of an asset to him to justify their continued existence despite their convenience for his prey, as well-- tonight, they prove that, helping him eat the distance between himself and Mizuki's head start in precious minutes. Indeed, between that and the fact that the object of their hunt has been nestled amongst the press of human bodies obliviously celebrating the holiday on the open rainless streets, Kakashi manages to come upon them both just when Mizuki has successfully managed to cut said hunted creature away from the safety of the crowd, herding them roughly through a warren of narrow alleyways, into a tight courtyard plenty far enough to kill a mythic away from civilian eyes.

Kakashi should probably be grateful that Mizuki has that much sense-- to seek that distance-- but instead he feels another surge of hot possessive anger: he partially misplaces it onto the territory, because the fact that Mizuki knows these streets so well indicates that he's been skulking around down here, invading Kakashi's territory regularly. Kakashi's going to have to address that, and soon-- but first, it's time to take what's his, what this interloper thinks himself clever to be transgressing.

The thing that they're hunting is a man-- or rather, apparently a man, since this is a mythic and _not_ a human: nothing could hide that truth, not with the way he smells, resonates, not with the way his energy twines around around Kakashi's, warm and electric and reactive in a way no human's ever could be. Mizuki has him up against a wall, Kunai in the junction of throat and neck, pressing in slightly, drawing just the lightest drop of blood, the smell of which nevertheless feeds Kakashi's rage and hunger like oxygen to a fire. Mizuki can feel the energy too, it has him distracted, completely enraptured by the being beneath his fingers, short and brown and unassuming, who looks so ordinary but for a sharp anger in their eyes, mixed with fear and defiance.

 _Mine_ , says that voice in the back of Kakashi's mind, fierce and possessive and as drunk on the energy as Mizuki is. That's not Muziki's fear to be inspiring. I should be _him_ who's pressing that beautiful creature against a wall, ravenous and aggressive, and that creature should be squirming underneath _him_ , not Mizuki, and with _want_ instead of fear--

Some part of the nature of these thoughts catches up with Kakashi, coldly sobering, because these are not the hunting thoughts that he was quite expecting-- he is no stranger to the craving and the want and the thrill of the hunt, no stranger to how close it is to a sexual experience, but nevertheless, there is a _line_ between those two things-- sex and The Hunt-- that has never before seemed confused or confusing and permeable.

But that part of him is small, a little peal of alarm against the roar of an inferno, and it's the inferno that has him now. Training and experience hold him back from charging in, from bull-rushing this young upstart trying to _steal from him_ \-- that, and the Kunai at the beautiful creature's throat, drawing that drop of blood. He knows how easy it would be for that Kunai to slip, to steal this precious mystery from him before he can begin to unravel its secrets. That's not an acceptable risk. So instead of rushing forward, he moves silently, every inch the shadow that his title claims him to be: Mizuki would never have known he was there, even if the younger hunter had been so wise as to pay attention to anything else but the beguiling thing he had caught.

Kakashi grabs at Mizuki's wrist first, a heartbeat-fast movement where he wraps his hand around the kunai-brandishing limb and forces it away from their prey, towards Mizuki's own body; in alarm, the man drops the weapon, and Kakashi takes advantage of the moment to infuse his grip with some of the not-magic available to hunters, that well of energy deep inside them that increases with every kill, and to _squeeze hard,_ feeling a thrill of feral pleasure as the bones grind underneath his hand. Good, that hand will be out of commission for awhile, a humiliation that will result in Mizuki's inability to hunt on this night, Halloween, which tends to feature so prominently in hunters' boasting during their rare social interactions with each other. Kakashi's other hand goes for the back of Mizuki's neck, grabbing the sensitive juncture and dragging him back and down and away, towards the other side of the courtyard, Mizuki gasping as Kakashi's grip cuts off some of his air. Kakashi's voice is deceptively cheerful, with just that dangerous glinting edge of naked threat, when he addresses the other hunter, "Mizuki, what a surprise to see you here. I could've sworn the hunting grounds I assigned you were 12 miles away. Isn't that where you ought to be?" He throws Mizuki roughly to the ground, kicking out with one foot when the man starts to gather his own not-magic, trying to fend off Kakashi's rage.

Mizuki wheezes, curling around his kicked ribs for a moment, trying to pull himself together-- he's disoriented from being pulled away from the intense proximity between himself and their mutual prey, his energy dragging and flailing in the open air around him, like limbs seeking desperate purchase. That makes Kakashi angrier, less inclined towards mercy, because the way that energy is reaching out implies that it was trying to forge a connection to the stranger that Kakashi's own soul seems to want, one that he hasn't really consciously realized or examined but one that he nevertheless feels deeply possessive over. This being is _not_ Mizuki's to claim. Especially not here, not on his own territory.

"Kakashi, come off it." Mizuki gasps out, glaring up at his superior, eyes narrowed and white hair splayed wildly around him, crackling with static. "If he'd showed up in my territory, you'd come after him too, you know that as well as I do."

Kakashi knelt down beside Mizuki, the interloper who was also his underling, and smiled, showing all of his teeth, including the sharp ones. "Yes." he admits, voice bland, "I certainly would. And I would be allowed to. Because I outrank you. Which is why I know where your territory is-- because I gave it to you. And I can take it away from you, too." Mizuki makes a move to stand, and Kakashi puts a hand out on his shoulder, as if steadying him, faux gentle, but also pressing him hard to the ground, keeping him down and on his back. The wolves do this, Kakashi knows-- the werewolves, who make up most of Kakashi's own kills-- they do this to underlings who don't know their place, keep them on their backs while they flex their own rank, make it clear to _everyone_ who's in charge. Mizuki also recognizes the dynamic; his face flares red, his eyes resentful and narrowed and angry, but he doesn't push upwards against Kakashi's hand, doesn't sit up-- he seems to recognize, _finally_ , the grievous error he's made, and accept the humiliation as part of his punishment. _Good,_ Kakashi thinks, _it's important for a pup to know his place._ They remain like that for several long, agonizing seconds, Kakashi drawing out the subtle humiliation between him and his subordinate, before relaxing back on his heels and giving Mizuki a disarming smile. "So here's this-- I'll let you go now, and you can go back to your own 'grounds and spend the rest of the night licking your wounds, and I won't take your territory away-- this time." he stands up, steps back nonchalantly, affecting the bored slouch for which he is so famous, "But if you come and hunt in my space again, I _will_ kill you." he adds, voice matching his posture.

Mizuki doesn't linger, doesn't do anything but shoot him an expression of resentful anger and hatred as he gets to his feet, taking himself quickly out of Kakashi's sight. Kakashi doesn't move again right away, but to twist around and look at their quarry, who has slid down the wall and is huddled up in a shivering mass, looking a little more overwhelmed than properly scared. Some of his thoughts and sensations are catching up to him in waves, as the adrenaline from confronting his subordinate fades-- itself unusual, because Mizuki _wasn't_ his prey, this beautiful stranger is. The time it takes to track Mizuki's fading energetic presence all the way out of his territory is a delightful and necessary breather; Kakshi uses it to collect himself, to pull his own ragged edges towards his center, to control the aggressive impulses that are telling him to rush their prey in a way very different from what he'd just done to Mizuki, to exert territorial claim over another being as he'd just done over a couple of miles of urban dirt.

That doesn't-- that's not-- Whatever that is, it's not a typical reaction, and not something he can indulge, not as Hokage, not as a man with _ethics,_ whether or not the recipient of such attentions is a mythic or not. There are already going to be Consequences for his actions towards Mizuki, because that impetuous runt is the kind of person to hold grudges and plot revenge, especially towards anyone with perceived authority and power, regardless of how empty the title from which it derives. He'll not dig a deeper hole for himself over-- whatever this is that's happening here, between himself and this stranger, this mythic who has yet to flee from his presence, for all the opportunity he's giving them.

Which, that itself is strange. "You know, I'd think you'd take this opportunity to run and lose yourself back among the humans. All the hunters in the region had your mark the moment you entered this world." he says to the being. They look up at him, brown eyes sharp and wide and intelligent; they have a scar across their face, from cheek to cheek, crossing their nose; their hair is loose around their shoulders, half obscuring their face, messy from flight and violence and that static of magic that still overlays the courtyard, heavy and ominous. Beautiful. No, whatever he's feeling definitely isn't the normal product of the hunt, and-- thinking back to his kitchen, what he was feeling when he was talking to the cats-- it never had been, the tenor of chase and claiming had never included the bloodlust or the urge to kill with which he was so familiar. Strange for him to have missed that until now.

The mythic is considering what to say, how to answer him; their arms and legs tense, like they are thinking about getting to their feet, taking his advice and running into the gaggle-- but instead they just narrowetheir eyes at him, measuring his intentions and his soul, as aware of the magic around them as he was. Nevertheless, when they speak, it is a lie, and a bad one: "I _am_ a human, I have no idea what you're talking about."

A lie, but a potentially convenient one.

Kakashi schools what little of his face is visible _very carefully_ , pulling just enough credulousness into the expression to make mistaking his belief of this obvious lie possible. "I see. Well, then, I _really_ don't know why you're hanging around, since such dangerous people are after you now." It's so hard to resist the urge to be droll and sarcastic, because Kakashi can't imagine how _anyone_ could mistake this lovely creature for a human. His mind is running through his internal database of mythics, trying to square the stranger against something he recognizes, starting with that _pull_ between them that he keeps feeling. Incubus? Succubus? no, the pull is too specific, and not centered around lust, for all there is certainly a lust component that he is _carefully_ suppressing. This whatever-it-is, it is specific toward Kakashi's energy, he'd not felt that same pull directed at Mizuki, for all Mizuki had been trying to force its redirection towrsd himself; it is also _not_ intentional, because the being is looking at him with wariness and suspicion holds no trace of familiarity, and Kakashi can feel the truth that they have never met in the energy between them as clearly as he can feel the pull, the presence of that smell in his nose, overlaid as it is with fear and magic.

He doesn't like that there is fear there. He doesn't want this creature to fear him.

But fear they do; when he begins to approach, it stiffens, bracing its back against the wall as if considering seriously taking his advice to flee-- Kakashi stops in his tracks, instantaneous, respectful of invisible boundaries, of the space between them. He still wants to _claim_ , but now that there is nothing here to exert the potential of a counterclaim, that urge is secondary, intermixed with a strong desire for that claim to be mutual and wanted. He holds up his hands, showing them to be empty-- though they'd been empty this whole time, so perhaps that wasn't much of a comfort-- "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you." Kakashi says, voice unusually soft, almost pleading. Comfort isn't really something he _does_ , and this whole interaction has him somewhat out to sea: he is a hunter, he hunts and kills mythics, he doesn't try to soothe them or check on their injuries. Nevertheless, here he is, looking towards the beaded line of red visible on the stranger's neck, trying to keep his own crackling energy low and even. "I just want to check on that injury."

Too-perceptive eyes meet his own--no one could possibly mistake this person for a human, they are going to have to _work on that_ , if this lie is something the two of them intend to maintain (and just when had this become the two of them? asks the part of him that sounds suspiciously like Pakkun)-- before the being nods briefly and holds their head at an angle, letting him see the wound: as shallow as it looks, Kakashi confirms that with a gentle touch that draws a flinch from the mythic; Kakashi finds it hard to resist the urge to comfort physically, to draw the being into a protective embrace or to run fingers through their thick brown hair. Those sorts of gestures would probably not be appreciated, not after the circumstances of this particular meeting.

"Well, since you _are_ a human but you also definitely don't _feel_ like a human,--" Kakashi begins to say, leaving a pause for the being to implicitly fill in their own name-- a pause which the being fails to recognize as a cue, blinking up at him in confusion through those beautiful brown eyes as that pause stretches on to uncomfortable lengths and Kakashi is forced to ask directly- "What's your name?"

"Iruka." the mythic answers, as if these most basic nuances of interaction-- the expressions and the pausing-- are completely alien, confusion clear on their face.

"Right," Kakashi says slowly, stepping away and bringing his own splayed hand to his face for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. What is he doing, this is a stupid set of decisions, he really should just end this, kill the beast _\-- the beast,_ who _isn't_ human-- here and now, get it over with, _as it is his job and his duty to do_ \-- "Right, Iruka. Well, since you are clearly _human,_ but don't feel like a human, then it might be a good idea for you to accompany me back to my base, so we can figure out whatever curse has been laid on you." His tower. The heart of his territory, where it is safe and so suffused with his own energy that it would mask even Iruka's notable presence, where he could keep Iruka _safe-- What was he doing_ , this is a _stupid_ set of decisions, stupider than letting the cats linger there-- but, then, when has he ever been inclined to making wise decisions? "Or else every hunter's gonna be on you, whether or not this is my territory."

Iruka blinks at him again, though they seem to have picked up on the implication that Kakashi is laying down, the fractionally better version of the lie than the one that they are currently using. They also flinch at the word hunter, which Kakashi notes with interest-- so they know what a hunter is, what that means. Good, then perhaps the need for the lie and the tentative safety Kakashi is offering will be readily apparent to them, might compel them to take that offer. But Iruka _doesn't_ seem to recognize him as a hunter, that much is clear by the next question: "Are you a sorcerer?" they ask, tentatively taking Kakashi's offered hand and allowing the man to pull them to both to their feet.

The question takes Kakashi by surprise, if only because that's not a term he's heard… well, ever, in reference to something that might reasonably still exist. There haven't been sorcerers for a couple hundred years, which means that _whatever_ Iruka is, it's a lot older (and probably a lot more powerful) than anything Kakashi'd been thinking. Unfortunately, that knowledge doesn't help bring the answer of Iruka's species forward in his mind at all, and it's not exactly like he can just _ask_ , not if they want to maintain this useful charade of Iruka being a human, by which Kakashi can _maybe just barely_ justify bringing the creature home with him, instead of killing them now, as would be expected.

It's just for observation, he tells himself; he needs to figure out what Iruka is, better ascertain what kind of danger that Iruka is. When he knows, then he'll-- well, he'll worry about what to do then, because there's only so far he can lie to himself in one night, so far he can allow himself to make a series of increasingly stupid decisions, and he's reaching that limit. Keep the world, and its decisions, small: he's taking Iruka home, he's going to put the being under seals to keep Iruka in and the outside _out_ , and he's going to do research. A _lot_ of research. He gives Iruka an amused look from his sole visible eye, deliberately affecting a facetious dismissal. "Sorcerer? No, there haven't been any of those in a hundred years. Have you been reading storybooks?" He tugs Iruka forward, keeping a hand on the being's wrist, steering them through the press of anonymous humanity that they step into. "You can help me catalogue the tower." This he mutters, almost more to himself than Iruka, but the being seems mildly interested, if still confused by Kakashi's other statements, as if none of this squares up to the world that they thought they were entering.

"If you're not a sorcerer, what are you?" they ask, as the pair of them round a corner, towards the tower visible in the distnce.

Kakashi gives him a grin that can't technically be seen through the mask he wears, but is probably clear enough in his visible eye, "I'm a hunter too." A real civilian would've found that revelation equally as far-fetched as his being a _sorcerer_ , given that the presence of hunters and mythics was nothing more than an urban legend to the non-noble population at large. Iruka, being neither human nor ordinary civilian, does not pick up on that nuance, only stiffens in alarm-- understandable, given how much emphasis Kakashi has placed on the danger of Iruka's pursuit by his peers. "I'm the Hokage, though" Kakashi adds, turning his attention to the crowd and the tower. "Their, er. Leader. The other hunters won't go after you if you're under my protection." The words are intended to be a comfort, and Kakashi isn't paying attention to Iruka's reaction, assuming that they would be taken as they are intended-- he doesn't see the look of alarm that crosses the mythic's face at the word 'Hokage', the the mythic's eyes shoot to his covered eye, expression suddenly sharp and wary.

Iruka's starting to piece some things together now, and not all of it is good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, expanded: there are aggressive sexual impulses from both kakashi and mizuki, tho mizuki's are implied. Kakashi gets his under control when he realizes what is happening.  
>  The violence is fairly mild for Naruto, but it does feature Kakashi grabbing Mizuki by the neck and choking him briefly, and also features Kakashi emphasizing his rank against Mizuki by means of humiliation.
> 
> ~~ TO BE CONTINUED~~ in future stories! This is staying in my active projects list, becuase I have a few more groundwork-type stories to get out for this world. Lots and lots of plans. C:
> 
> I can be found on [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/00101010). There is also a public link on that PF to a form where people can send me prompts. i have no twitter or tumblr or instagram, nor any intention to maintain a presence on those services.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> \- 42 / * / asterisk / BooleanWildcard / 00101010 

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/00101010). There is also a public link on that PF to a form where people can send me prompts. i have no twitter or tumblr or instagram, nor any intention to maintain a presence on those services.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> \- 42 / * / asterisk / BooleanWildcard / 00101010 


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